


Dinner with His Prisoner

by anubislover



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: The Secret Crusade, F/M, Floor Sex, Getting to Know Each Other, Prisoner!Maria, Smut, Snark, some dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: Maria has decided to stop eating, and Altair has no wish for his prisoner to starve to death. So he chooses to share his own meal, and in the process, discover more about the woman who has ensnared him. Maria, meanwhile, may find that there's more to her Assassin jailor beneath his hood.





	Dinner with His Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Another AltairxMaria story, because I am pretty sure I've read all the fics about them on both AO3 and FF.net, and if I want more I've got to write them myself. With luck, maybe you lovely readers will be inspired to write a few yourselves? *hint hint* Anyway, please feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think, including constructive criticism.

“Markos tells me you refuse to eat.”

Sitting against the stone wall of her cell, Maria barely glanced at her unwelcome visitor. “I have not been particularly hungry, Assassin. I’m sure there are plenty of starving beggars that have a greater need for it. You can give it to them.”

Altair sighed. “I hear you have refused every meal since I left two days ago. This is not a lack of appetite; this is masochism.”

Snorting, she aimlessly rolled her head to meet his eyes. “Perhaps I simply prefer starvation over being poisoned.”

Kneeling, he inspected her closely from the other side of the bars. “Did someone try to poison you?”

Maria jerked at how his voice was laced with concern. “No, but given the price on my head and my ties to the Templars, I would rather not take the chance. All it would take is one maliciously prepared meal and they’d have a body to present Bouchart for a hefty reward.”

“You did not seem so worried when I was here.”

She snorted, “I doubt any of these men are stupid enough to make such an attempt when you’re around.”

He found a small amount of hope bubbling in his chest. Was she finally beginning to trust him? “You do not fear I would poison you.”

She shrugged, forcing herself to sit up properly, back straight and chin raised. “Not your style. I had greater concerns, like when you will finally slit my throat in my sleep.”

The bubble of hope deflated. “You really believe I still mean to kill you, even after all these weeks of traveling together?”

“You said so yourself; I’m Templar bait. Once I’ve served my purpose, I’m sure you’ll take great pleasure in disposing of me.”

Altair sighed forlornly. How he wished she was nothing more than bait. It was an excuse he kept giving simply so he could continue to keep her by his side. His feelings for her had grown complicated since finding her again in Acre. What had started as admiration for her bravery and skill as a warrior had developed into something…more. He enjoyed spending time with her, even when all she did was hurl insults at him or sullenly ignore him. She satisfied a need inside him that the women he’d bedded had never come close to filling. He desired her, yes, but even more, he desired to know her, to talk to her, to be near her.

And yet Maria Thorpe still saw him as nothing more than an enemy. Even if her days as a Templar were finished, she still held a personal grudge against him. The thought saddened him. Was there really nothing he could do to make her see him in a different light? Well, besides letting her go. He was not so besotted that he’d make such a novice mistake.

“You still need to eat. Is the risk of poison worth starving yourself to death?”

“Both are ignoble, but at least I will have died on my own terms.”

A surge of admiration went through him, even as he mentally cursed her stubbornness and pride. Glancing about her cell, his eyes fell upon the food she refused to eat. He wrinkled his nose. A bowl of what he could only assume was some sort of watery gruel sat against the bars near his feet. He could smell its contents faintly, and he nearly stuck out his tongue in disgust. Poisoned or not, he couldn’t blame her for refusing to eat such slop. He understood Markos and his men wouldn’t be feeding her five-course meals of roast pheasant and fruits, but surely they could scrounge up something slightly better than this for a lady, prisoner or not?

Maria watched with wary eyes as Altair gingerly slid her dinner out between the bars and left the room without a word. Sighing, she leaned back against the wall, wincing as her stomach gave a pained growl. She knew her hunger strike was foolish, but to die of poison by the hands of some unknown lowlife seemed far less dignified. She was no stranger to hunger; she’d been sent to bed without supper quite often as a child, and she’d endured many a long march on limited rations when she was a soldier. But at least during those times she’d had something to keep her mind off her stomach, making it infinitely more bearable. So she felt a little guilty for making Altair storm off. Arguing with him was one of the few forms of entertainment she had. There were many things she hated about him, and she had made it her mission to find a way to insult him on each one. She hated how his blasted hood hid his eyes, leaving her to guess at what he might be thinking. She hated the way he always found her, no matter her escape attempt. She hated how easily he seemed to brush off her biting comments. And yet she couldn’t help but also feel intrigued by him. He was a mystery wrapped inside an enigma, and she often found herself wondering about the most inconsequential things. Like, how did he get the scar across his lip, or lose his finger? What did he use to get the bloodstains out of his ridiculously white robes?

She was surprised when only a short time later he returned, this time holding a plate of what looked like cheese, bread, and even some fruit. Her stomach rumbled at the sight, but she kept her expression blank.

Carefully, Altair unlocked the cell door, eyes trained on Maria for any indication she might try to escape. But much as she wished to, the former Templar was too weak to bother. The hunger and the weeks of traveling and being held in one cell or another had taken its toll, loath as she was to admit it. She knew her Assassin jailer would easily subdue her in this state. And besides, she was curious as to what he was doing.

Entering the cell, he closed the door, but didn’t bother locking it. Now up close, he could see the tiredness in his companion, the way her cheeks had become ever so slightly sunken and her fair skin a bit paler. Slowly, to show he meant no harm, he sat before her and placed the plate between them.

Maria frowned, eyes darting between the Assassin and the food. “What’s this?”

“Dinner. I have not eaten yet, either, so I thought we might share a meal.”

A harsh laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Oh, aren’t you a romantic one? Dinner for two on the dirty floor of a cell. You certainly know how to set the mood, Altair. My heart’s all aflutter.”

Despite her biting tone, Altair had to smile. He enjoyed hearing her say his name in that lovely accent of hers. “Shall I light some candles and invite a mistral to play, as well?”

This time, her laugh was a little more genuine. “You sly dog! And here I am, dressed in all my finery,” she said, gesturing to her torn and dirty tunic. “Clearly, I’ve no choice but to fall into your arms.”

Altair found himself chuckling as well. He was unused to such playful banter with her, and found he enjoyed it immensely. “Alas, you have caught me. From the moment I saw you, I’ve planned this very situation so that I may seduce you and learn all your secrets.” He gestured to the food. “Please, eat. At least if this food is poisoned, we’ll go together.”

She let out a snort. “The romantic gestures continue. Will Markos and his men find our bodies locked in a passionate embrace?”

Shaking his head, he tore off a hunk of bread. “Ours will be a tale for the ages. The poets of the world will write of our star-crossed affair for centuries to come.”

“Well, I’d hate to deny the poets their soppy love story.” She gingerly picked up a piece of cheese, and after taking a moment to inspect it, popped it into her mouth, chewing cautiously. Swallowing, she said, “Well, if it is poisoned, they’ve at least done a good job masking the taste.”

Grabbing another piece of cheese, she made sure to eat slowly. She may have been famished, but she knew simply wolfing food down would cause her further discomfort later. It was best to pace herself, despite her eager belly. She watched as Altair took his own piece of cheese, eyeing the missing finger.

He caught her staring. “Is there something on your mind?”

Deciding it was time to feed her curiosity as well as her body, she indicated his hand. “How did that happen? It couldn’t have been an accident; the cut is too clean and it’s a difficult finger to lose.”

Giving a wry smile, he unsheathed his hidden blade. “When we are given this, the finger is removed so it does not get in the way.”

Maria blanched. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a thousand years, at least.”

“And no one’s thought to improve the damn thing so you don’t lose a finger? I would have thought after inventing it, that would be job one!”

Shaking his head, he retracted the blade and grabbed some grapes. “It is more than that; it is a sign of commitment; that we understand what comes with wielding such a blade.”

She rolled her eyes, popping a grape into her own mouth and relishing the sweet taste. “Have you ever considered that it also makes you easier to identify? Like I said, it’s not a finger one could have lost in an accident. If all Assassins are missing that finger, it’ll make it so much easier for the Templars to hunt you down.”

“You sound almost concerned. Are you saying you don’t want your former comrades to find and kill me?”

“Of course not. That pleasure belongs to me.”

“Well then, if I survive, I’ll take your advice into consideration. Perhaps the design could use some improvement.” Popping another grape into his mouth, he regarded her thoughtfully. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“I believe you just did.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. How very Maria-like to give such a petulant response. It was as endearing as it was frustrating. “How did de Sable discover you?”

Chewing thoughtfully, she frowned a bit. “I was actually outed by one of the doctors. I had been injured saving one of my comrades during a minor skirmish; nothing serious, but I was basically dragged to the medical tent when they saw me bleeding. I’d trained and fought with these men, and we’d formed a bond like nothing I’d felt with anyone back home. They meant well, but once I was stripped of my armor and tunic, there was no hiding who I was. The doctor was required by law to inform my superiors. I don’t blame him for that, but my former comrades were quick to turn on me.” A slight sting formed behind her eyes at the memory, but she ignored it. Maria Thorpe did not cry, especially over the foolishness of men. “Some called for my execution, while others thought I should be put to…better use. Luckily, Robert stepped in.”

Altair felt a surge of cold fury wash over him like a monsoon. “You fought and served with those men, and they turned on you so quickly?”

Blinking, Maria was most surprised at the barely suppressed rage in his voice. “Yes. They felt my deception was tantamount to betrayal, despite how necessary it was. Most of the commanders felt the same. Westerners have very strong beliefs as to a woman’s place.” A fond smile graced her lips as she said, “Not Robert, though. He saw beyond my gender and demanded I be turned over to him. No one dared argue, and he made me his steward and told me that I was to no longer hide who I was; he said if the men were threatened by a woman in their ranks, then perhaps they should reconsider their life choices.”

Altair’s next question spilled from his mouth before he could fully think it through. “What did it mean to be his steward? I am not familiar with the title.”

She shrugged. “It meant I was to travel with him wherever he went, defend him with my life, act as his stand-in when necessary,” she gave him a look, and he found himself thinking fondly of their first encounter, unconventional as it was. “I was his confidant, his companion, and his bodyguard all at once. Eventually, my job included warming his bed, as well.” Her voice turned melancholy. “He promised me a knighthood if we succeeded in the Holy Land. He was everything my former husband was not, and I foolishly grew to love him. But my feelings were not returned. I was simply another weapon in his arsenal. I realized that after you killed him; if he’d truly cared for me, he would have worked harder to ensure I would not be immediately turned on by his Templar brothers.”

She started as she felt a warm hand rest over hers. She stared at the Assassin, and he seemed just as surprised at his own actions, pulling his hand away swiftly. “My apologies,” he muttered. “While I do not regret killing him, I do regret that my actions have hurt you.”

She shook her head. “I suppose it was inevitable. Perhaps he sent me to die in his stead that day so that I would not learn that the Templars truly had no place for me. I’d die his faithful steward, believing that I was both serving the greater good and protecting the man I loved. And his only regret would be over the loss of such a useful tool and bedmate.”

“He was a fool, then. You are worth more than he could ever imagine.”

The conviction in his voice was both somewhat alarming and oddly endearing, but she was not the sort to forget a man’s crimes. “Yes, I also have my uses as Templar bait.”

Altair seemed to deflate before her very eyes. He idly picked up a date, but did little more than stare at it. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Maria found herself actually regretting her offhanded quip and quickly sought to change the subject. Looking around for anything to divert the conversation to, her eyes fell on his hood. “Why do you insist on wearing your hood all the time? It’s not really proper dinner attire.”

The distraction seemed to work, as he idly fingered the beak of his hood. “I did not think you’d be interested in the face of an ugly, old Assassin.”

With a snort, she reached across and tugged at it. “Normally wouldn’t, but I tire of looking at the same bloody hood all the time. If you wish to dine with me in the future, take the damn thing off.”

Altair was a master Assassin, leader of the Brotherhood, and a man of discipline and skill. He was not caught off guard easily. Yet, Maria implying that she would be willing to dine with him again utterly stunned him. Once the shock wore off, he pulled off his hood without a second thought.

Logically, she should not have been surprised by his appearance; while the hood covered much, she had long ago recognized that the shape of his chin, quirk of his lips, and proud nose indicated that he was a handsome man. Still, she found herself in awe at just how attractive he was, with his sharp brow and short, slightly messy brown hair. But it was his eyes that caused her to temporarily lose her breath. They were like an eagle’s, intense and almost golden, and held the look of a man who had seen much more than his years implied. Regarding him intently, Maria found herself reaching out to lightly touch his face. “You clearly do not give yourself enough credit, Altair. You’re hardly older than me, and I’ve certainly met men who would do well to hide their face. You’re not one of them.”

Unconsciously, he leaned ever-so-slightly into her touch. Though her fingers sported the callouses of a seasoned swordsman, there was a softness to them he hadn’t expected. “I’ll remember that. And I truly do not understand how you passed as a man for so long. You’re far prettier than most Englishmen I’ve seen.”

She gave a small but genuine laugh, absently rubbing her thumb over one sharp cheekbone. “When a man does not expect to see a woman, he can easily be deceived. I fooled you at the funeral, did I not?” She pulled her hand away, and he found himself missing her touch immediately.

“At first, yes, but your voice gave you away.”

“And yet you asked ‘what sorcery is this?’” she teased.

He ducked his head slightly in embarrassment. “I realized you were a woman before I removed your helmet, but I was not expecting you to be so lovely. I thought perhaps you had put me under a spell.”

White teeth flashed as she gave a wide grin. “Perhaps I have. Is it persuading you to let me go?”

His responding smirk was a bit more salacious, eyes dark and full of mischief. “If anything, it’s compelling me to keep you more.”

She forced down a blush. Perhaps demanding that he remove the hood was a mistake. She hadn’t expected to find him attractive, and it was nice to match wits with someone. He first husband had been far too dull, and she hadn’t truly dared attempt to argue with Robert, even playfully. But Altair could keep up with her and even seemed to prefer her biting comments to sullen silence.

He offered her some of the bread, which she gladly accepted. For the first time in days, she felt somewhat content, as good food in one’s belly and a diminished fear of being killed is want to do. It was certainly no feast with Robert de Sable, but she could appreciate the Assassin’s gesture. He could have left her to starve, conscience clear as she was doing it to herself. Instead, he chose to share his own dinner with his prisoner on a cell floor. A prisoner who had done everything possible to make his life miserable these past few weeks.

Maria looked him over, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you doing this?”

Altair blinked, unable to answer due to a mouth full of bread. Instead, he cocked his head inquisitively. She chose to wait, appreciating the fact that he at least had the manners to not speak with his mouth full. Perhaps Assassins were not complete savages. Once he had swallowed, he replied, “I told you; I’m trying to seduce you.”

Rolling her eyes, she plucked a grape off the stem. “Yes, and truly, my knickers have never been wetter.” Altair nearly choked, not prepared for the delightful image that danced across his mind. “But in all seriousness, why are you bothering to do this? I’m sure you’d rather be sitting in your own chambers, enjoying some peace and quiet after a hearty day of murdering instead of sitting on this cold cell floor with me.”

A small smile crept onto his lips as he picked out an especially juicy date. “Honestly, I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be.”

Maria had no idea how to respond to that. He sounded sincere, but why on Earth would he want to spend any more time with her than necessary? Yes, he seemed to be enjoying their conversation, but she was still his prisoner. Was he touched in the head?

Her thoughts evaporated like rain in the desert as he bit into the date. She found her eyes fixated on how the juices wet his lips, a single drop escaping to run down the path of his scar. Unconsciously, she licked her own lips, and found herself tempted to trace her tongue across that scar to catch the sweet nectar.

Altair caught her gaze and made a show of licking his lips clean, enjoying the way the action made her pale cheeks flush. He took another bite, letting out a little moan at the taste, smirking as she blushed further.

“Vile man,” she muttered, looking away with a huff.

“I told you I was here to seduce you,” he chuckled, teasingly offering her the last bite. Much to his surprise, she leaned forward and took it in her mouth, lips wrapping around his index and middle finger and giving them a soft suck. A groan escaped his throat as she looked up at him through dark lashes, but then she pulled away, lips adorned with a smirk as she chewed the piece of fruit. She swallowed and said, “Careful, Altair. Tables can turn so easily.”

Her actions, coupled with the self-satisfied look in her eye sent his blood surging downwards in a rush of heat. It took everything in him not to launch himself forward and claim those lips with his own. She played a dangerous game, and while he considered himself a man of discipline and control, he was still a man, and she was the woman whose face haunted his dreams at night.

Instead, he inched closer to her, knees brushing her own. She could feel the heat radiating off him, yet the contact sent a shiver up her spine. Leaning in, he whispered, voice husky, “That is true, but I enjoy a challenge.” Lifting her own hand to his mouth, he lightly kissed her fingertips, eyes never leaving hers. His calloused thumb rubbed her palm in small circles, while the rest of his long fingers tickled her knuckles and wrist.

Though far from a sheltered maiden, Maria found her breath catching at the gentle contact. The light touch contrasted deliciously with his heavy stare, which spoke of how he’d like to devour _her_ rather than the remaining food beside them.

She found her voice coming out a bit breathier than she’d like. “I’m no mere challenge, Assassin. You’d do well to remember that.”

His scarred lips quirked upwards as he gave her middle finger a sharp nip. A shot of pleasure raced from the pad of her finger, down her arm to pool in her belly. He shifted his grip so his thumb rested against her pulse. “Oh, I’m unlikely to forget. You have caused me endless frustration, Maria, but lucky for you, the prize is worth the chase.”

“And what prize is that, Altair?”

He gave her fingers a sharp suck, mimicking her early teasing. “The chance to touch your beautiful skin. To see your eyes clouded with pleasure. To taste your desire.” His mouth engulfed her ring and index fingers down to the second bend, swirling his talented tongue over the sensitive digits. He released them with a wet pop. “To hear you _moan_ my name.”

She scoffed, resisting the urge to rub her thighs together. Damn that man for managing to make her wet with mere words. It must be from how long it had been since she and Robert had been intimate. A woman could only remain chaste for so long. But that didn’t mean she wanted to give her captor the upper hand. “You’ll hear no such thing, Assassin.”

Her breath hiked as he sensually licked her palm, lips tickling her skin as it joined his fingers at her wrist. He gave that a kiss, too, using tongue, teeth, and lips in a way that made her brain unwillingly wonder what he could do with other parts of her. “No? The way your pulse races says otherwise.” Mouth leaving her hand, he leaned in, golden eyes gleaming at how she did not shy away. “As does the pretty blush on your cheeks.” She was disappointed that he did not kiss her, but allowed herself a sharp intake of breath as he nipped and sucked the sharp edge of her jaw.

A low moan rumbled in his chest as he sampled her sweet flesh, trailing suckling bites down the pale column of her throat. Despite her years of harsh training shown in her hands, the flesh there was smooth and soft as a lily’s petals. He wondered if the skin of her chest, her belly, her thighs was just as soft. And the pretty blush that was staining her cheeks, did it go further down? He was tempted to find out. She was so different from the women he’d known in the past; their dark skin did not flush so easily, and their beauty was calculated and cultivated like the garden they resided in. Maria had a more composed, cool beauty that she attempted to divert attention from with biting words and masculine clothes. He gave her pulse point a sharp nip, and she released a sweet, mewling cry that set his blood on fire. He wanted to strip her of that gray tunic and leather breeches and explore every inch of her, to learn what made her so different from the women of his country.

Unfortunately, the dirt floor reminded him that he was not in Paradise. They were in a cold cell in a rebellion safehouse, where anyone could walk in on them. He pulled away slowly, reluctant to abandon the taste of her skin. “Alas, this is neither the time nor place.”

Maria stared at him, arousal slowly turning to fury. How dare he taunt her so, simply to let his conscience get the better of him now? If he thought he could make such claims and simply walk away, he was sorely mistaken.

Quick as a viper, her hand shot out to grab his robes, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Her lips latched onto his, tongue running along the seam, demanding entrance. He granted it, enjoying the way her tongue surged past to explore his mouth. He should have known a woman like Maria would not simply sit by and let him tease her for long. Pushing his earlier reservations from his mind, he eagerly returned the kiss, tongue tangling with hers, matching her in passion and ferocity. He grabbed her hips to haul her bodily onto his lap, and she shifted her legs to straddle him, moaning as she felt his straining, covered cock press against her aching core.

Maria rocked against him, enjoying how the normally unflappable Assassin threw his head back at the sensation. She took the opportunity to latch onto his throat, sucking the tan skin, determined to leave her mark on him. He seemed to appreciate her aggressiveness, as one hand buried itself in her hair in encouragement, while the other groped her rear, pressing her even more insistently against his throbbing erection.

Sensually, she trailed her tongue from the base of his neck to his ear. “You will find, Altair, that I am not a woman to be trifled with,” she panted. “Either you make good on what your body is promising,” she gave a slow roll of her hips, sucking in air through her teeth as the action provided delicious friction against her sensitive heat, “or you leave right now, and I’ll finish myself off.”

The growl he gave was almost animalistic as he flipped their positions, pinning her to the ground. His lips roughly melded with hers as he hastily undid her belt, giving his hands easy access to the skin hidden beneath her tunic. It was as soft as he’d imagined, smooth and warm, but he could feel the powerful muscles beneath, proof of her warrior training. Pulling away, panting, he eyed her greedily. “There is nothing I’d enjoy more than to fuck you until we’re both raw, but this really isn’t the place. I won’t have our first time be on the dirty floor of a cell where anyone could walk in.” He leaned in to give her lower lip a sharp nip, soothing the sting with his tongue. “I’m a jealous man, Maria, and I have no wish to share the sight of you writhing in pleasure with anyone.”

Another burst of fire settled in her core at his words. “First time? You had best take me now, Assassin, for I doubt I’ll be coerced into such an encounter again.”

The feeling of his hand wedging itself between their bodies, trailing down her stomach to dip beneath the waistband of her trousers, was utterly sinful. Her breathing stuttered to a halt as his clever fingers slipped beneath her undergarments to rub her little bundle of nerves. His words dripped with lust as he murmured in her ear, “With how wet you are, I see this occurring many times, Maria. I’ve imagined any number of positions and locations I’d love to take you in.” Their hips formed a steady rhythm as his other hand occupied itself with her neglected chest. “I’ve pictured you naked, tied to my bed, completely at my mercy and loving it. I’ve dreamt of you riding me, forbidding me from touching you as you use me for your own pleasure.” He rolled a hardened nipple between his fingers and forced himself to slow the pace of his grinding thrusts. He was too close, and he wanted to play with his lovely prisoner some more.

Removing his hands from her wet heat and tantalizing chest, he held her hips down in a powerful grip. She gave a frustrated groan and bucked her hips, attempting to regain the friction she desperately needed, but he held her down, amber eyes filled with mirth and lust at her dilemma. Once again he started to grind his hips against her own, but as slowly and teasingly as he could manage. “When we were on that boat, I imagined bending you over a crate and taking you like a bitch in heat. I confess, I almost did under the guise of making our roles as a monk and his consort more convincing.” Teasingly, he nibbled a trail up her neck. Her soft flesh was so sweet, he found he couldn’t get enough of it. “Every time you escaped me, I imagined dragging you into the nearest secluded alley and fucking you against a wall. I’d have to gag you, of course; the beautiful sounds you’d make would surely attract attention, and I’d be in no mood for distractions as I fucked you so hard you’d be unable to walk, much less run away.”

Maria wasn’t sure if she was in heaven or hell. On one hand, the intense pleasure of Altair’s filthy words and actions burned her so sweetly. But he insisted on holding back, slowing down just enough that completion remained just out of reach. It was torture, yet she wanted more.

“Altair,” she moaned, grasping his robes, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to God—”

He cut her off with a plundering kiss, tongue surging past plush lips to challenge hers. She was happy to oblige, and her nails scratched his chest through his robes. The hiss he let out was immensely gratifying, but it was not enough. She needed him to make good on his words, to fuck her roughly, to make her feel alive and wanted and _satisfied_. Slowly, she wiggled her hand into his own loose trousers and gripped him firmly, stroking the velvety hardness teasingly. The groan he let out was music to her ears, and she ran her thumb over the tip, smirking at the warm, wet precum she felt.

Her eyes were hooded and her cheeks deliciously flushed as she murmured, “Perhaps you should mind your words, Altair. At this rate, you may find yourself finished too soon, and then our first time will be nothing but a massive disappointment.”

With a snarl, Altair grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to the side of her head. “You play a dangerous game, woman. I have been trying to be a gentleman by not taking you on some prison floor, but you have been making it next to impossible.”

She frowned in irritation, rolling her hips against his straining cock. “I’ve had enough of gentleman, Assassin. I was married to one, and Robert liked to play at being one.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him closer. “What I need is a man who won’t treat me like I’m glass, ready to shatter if he so much as kisses me too hard. So either make good on your words, or slink back into whatever hole you crawled out of!”

The grin he gave her could put even an incubus to shame. “As you wish, Maria.”

Again he kissed her, slow and wet and filthy, with his tongue mimicking the tempo of his hips, completely dominating her own. He clasped her wrists in one large hand, allowing the other to once again find its way into her trousers, calloused fingers stroking her throbbing clit, circling and teasing until she was once again right on the edge of orgasm. Her legs loosened their grip, bonelessly dropping to the floor as her stomach twisted in knots.

And again he pulled away, allowing the surge of pleasure to ebb away before it could fully wash over her. She bit back a scream, glaring at the man above her, who grinned at her smugly, even as his breath came out in unsteady pants, cheeks flushed and eyes hungry. He was enjoying this, taking great pleasure in watching her suffer at his teasing and talented hands, even as he denied himself his own completion.

Finally resigned to the fact that she was at his mercy, she softened her gaze and whimpered, “Please, Altair. Please fuck me. I need you inside me. I don’t care if we’re in a cell or a castle, just please fuck me!”

Her pleading seemed to make something snap inside him, and his hands couldn’t seem to strip her of her breeches and underwear fast enough. His own were loosened just enough so he could get his cock out, and without so much as a warning it was inside her with a single thrust.

Biting his clothed shoulder to muffle her pleasured scream, Maria’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head. She had never felt to delightfully _full_ before. True, Robert had not been a bad lover, but he’d never been this passionate, never gotten her so riled up with pleasure that she’d demand to be taken on the dirty floor of a cell.

Altair, meanwhile, was fighting to not let out his own sound of delight at feeling her engulf him so sweetly. She was tight, wet, and hot as hellfire, branding his soul with her cries of delight as he set a hard, steady pace.

Maria sucked in a harsh breath. Yes, Altair’s hard thrusting was good, stoking the fire the was building within her. She matched him thrust for thrust, again wrapping her legs around him and scratching his chest with her once again free hands as he gripped her hips like a lifeline.

As her velvet walls clenched around his straining cock, all Altair could think of was how difficult it would be to keep his hands off her in the future. Her animosity had cooled his lust in the past, but now that he knew her, had tasted the fruit that had been tantalizingly out of reach, he knew it would be impossible to let her go. He’d have to find even more excuses to keep her at his side, to have Markos move her to his chambers so he could have her anytime without fear of interruption. Of course, it wouldn’t be as secure as her cell, and he knew his Maria would likely still attempt to escape, if only just to vex him. Perhaps he _could_ tie her to the bed in between missions…

Her breathy mewls coaxed him out of his thoughts, and he groaned lustily as her walls clenched around him so deliciously. The wet slapping sound as their bodies met was drowned out by the delightful noises that escaped her lips and his own labored breathing as he adjusted the angle and hit a spot that made her bite back a scream of delight. He hit that spot, again and again, coaxing her closer and closer to completion, and she frantically clawed at his disheveled robes, fingers attempting to find purchase as he finally, _finally_ allowed her to cum. Molten pleasure surged through her, and she bit down on Altair’s shoulder to muffle her scream. Her walls clamped around his straining cock, milking him, coaxing his own orgasm as he watched Maria’s face contort in utter pleasure. He barely had the foresight to pull out, ropes of sticky seed erupting from his cock, painting the dirty floor and Maria’s pale stomach and thighs.

For a moment, the only sounds were their labored breathing, before Altair attempted to use the corner of his robes to clean his sated prisoner up. He wiped away the liquid proof of their coupling, giving her soft, soothing kisses as the rough fabric brushed her over-stimulated core.

Maria languidly returned his kisses, still recovering from possibly the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. Had she known of Altair’s…talents, she would have gone on a hunger strike sooner.

Oh, she was still determined to escape. She would be no man’s prisoner, no matter how good he was in the sack. Or floor, as the case may be. But she could not say she hated him anymore. The Templars would have turned on her sooner or later, so she could not blame him for that anymore. She still did not believe in his worldview, and she would not believe his claims of the Templar’s goals until she heard them with her own ears.

But she finally saw Altair as something other than an Assassin. He was human, just like her, not some entity of evil that she had been raised to believe the Syrians were. He had needs, desires, just like her. Were they not on opposing sides, she thought they could get along quite well. He was not put off by her sharp tongue or more masculine skills. He respected her as a warrior as much as he desired her as a woman.

Pity. Were circumstances different, she’d almost consider him decent husband material.

Stretching, she winced at the soreness of her backside. Perhaps fucking on the ground was not their best idea. Altair handed Maria her discarded things, though not before teasingly running a finger down her thigh. She shivered at his light touch.

“It’s a wonder no one came down here and saw us,” she noted absently, unsure what else to say. She’d never been good at pillow-talk, not even with Robert.

Altair chuckled. “They’re probably so used to hearing you scream at me they’ve learned to ignore it.” He adjusted his own trousers, looking around at the cell. “Still, I would not wish to try our luck a second time.” He gave her a small, almost bashful smile. “I do not regret our actions, but next time, please, at least let me take you in a proper bed.”

She returned the grin, admiring how his scar did not take away from the gentleness of his expression. “I suppose I can accept your terms, Altair. Assuming there is a next time.”

His gentle smile turned rakish. “Oh, there will be, Maria. You’ve bewitched me; I fear I’m cursed to chase after you to the edge of the world.” Crawling towards her, he stole another slow, teasing kiss. Pulling away, he whispered, “You’re mine, sweet Maria. And I fear I’m forever yours.”

Strangely, her heart sped up at his words, even as her pride and mind raged against them. He wasn’t her enemy any longer, but she couldn’t quite consider him a friend, either. Yet she found his words flattering and, oddly, comforting.

Getting up, Altair walked out of the cell, locking it securely. He still hadn’t put his hood back on, and his bright eyes regarded her carefully. “We’ll have to dine together again soon. Are you doing anything tomorrow?” he asked teasingly, yet she could hear the small undercurrent of hope in his voice.

She found herself at a loss. If he had merely been lusting after her, she’d have a witty retort, perhaps mocking him a bit before grudgingly accepting his invitation. But that whisper of hope, that small hint that dinner might mean more to him that just a roll in the sheets, that he actually wanted to spend time with _her_ , stayed her normally barbed tongue.

He frowned worriedly at her silence. “Maria?”

Shaking her head, she leaned against the cool stone wall. _It should not matter what the Assassin thinks of me,_ she told herself, forcing such silly notions from her mind _._ _It’s merely a way to pass the time until I escape_. But the words felt hollow, even in her own head. Feeling his concerned gaze upon her, she gave him a coy grin. “Perhaps I could find some time in my busy schedule. But I fear I haven’t a thing to wear.”

The apprehension faded from his face as he gave her a rakish grin. “All the better. I did not get to explore nearly as much as your body as I would have liked.” His voice dropped to a low timber that settled right between her thighs. “Next time, I intend to take my time with you.”

She smirked, eyeing him up and down. “Likewise. I plan to learn exactly what’s hidden under those robes of yours. You Assassins are too full of secrets.”

Chuckling, Altair adorned his hood, and Maria felt oddly sad to see his eyes disappear into its shadow. She found she rather liked his face, especially those strange, amber eyes of his. The hood served only as a reminder of what he was and what he stood for, blocking out the man she’d found herself wanting to get to know.

But, as he walked away, Altair turned back and gave her a small, sincere smile. “Until tomorrow, Maria.”

Unconsciously, she returned it. “Until then, Altair.”

Perhaps he wasn’t her friend, but she was beginning to see he was more than just an Assassin. And perhaps that was enough for now.


End file.
